


Relieved

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Ready For The Siege [17]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Dom Loki, F/M, Good Loki, Grief/Mourning, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Sub Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I made a choice that I regret... A painful picture that I can't forget, now what I see is what I get. It's too late to look back.</p><p>(Summary is from Celldweller's "Switchback.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sliding Back To Oblivion

Maria Hill had let her hair grow longer over the past several months of the Red Room debacle; it wasn't officially being called that, but losing nearly a hundred agents over one dead and one missing potential asset wasn't a worthwhile balance. Having Agents Barton and Romanoff turn to consultants didn't help, either. There were plenty of recruits out of the Academies, but they were green and so idealistic it sometimes hurt to look at them. She knew what they would become once they went out into the field, and there was no preparing them for it. Time and experience would weather them, temper their enthusiasm, dull the hopeful shine in their eyes and leave them as jaded as the senior staff. There was no getting around it.

She was allowed to enter the upper floors of Avenger Tower because she knew Pepper Potts and had a formal request to give Natasha Romanoff. Maria had no illusions that she would be allowed into the residential floors otherwise.

Dressed in a formal black pantsuit, her red blouse was a pop of color that drew the eye. They were Natasha's colors, a subtle callback to her skill as the Black Widow. Maria hadn't been conscious of that when she had dressed that morning, but she had been wondering if Natasha would take the current case or not. She had put on a good enough front for Fury, ensuring him that she was functioning well, but Maria had her doubts. The Red Room was nothing but damage and devastation, and she was high enough level to see the full file contents. Lower level agents would see pages of redacted information, only occasional sentences slipping through. She knew the whole of it, the different interviews that Natasha had given in the beginning, the psychiatrist notes, therapy transcripts, self reports when she trusted the organization enough to not repeat the work she had grown up with.

And even then, Natasha had kept many vital secrets hidden from them. Even as she trusted them, she hadn't given them everything.

This wasn't the same as the Red Room, but Maria had no illusions about it being a cakewalk.

Natasha was in jeans and a red Henley, her hair hanging to her shoulders in soft red waves. She stood there barefoot in the anteroom near the elevators, her green eyes clear and assessing. It was a better reception than Maria thought she was going to get, honestly, and she tried smiling at Natasha in an encouraging manner.

It wasn't returned. Her expression remained blank. That couldn't be a good sign.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Maria said, striding forward. She didn't bother to extend her hand, but kept the smile on her face. "Is there a good place for us to discuss this?"

Though she paused and appeared to think about it, Maria couldn't help but think of it as a calculated ploy to keep her off balance. Natasha was notorious for doing that if she could, the better to keep people at arm's length. Maria knew exactly why she would do that, so she didn't take it personally. If she was as good as Natasha, she might have done the same. It certainly would have saved her a few painful years when trying to date. Now she didn't even bother, and only went for casual hookups if she felt too starved for human company.

Natasha led her to a conference room in one of the public areas for the Avengers. Maria knew that there were open areas that all of them could use, with separate suites or floors above and below that could only be accessed by stairwells or elevators that had no connection to the public elevator banks. If there was one thing Stark knew about, it was how to have some measure of privacy while living in the public eye. He didn't always use that knowledge for himself, but he certainly did for the rest of the team.

Maria didn't bother to waste Natasha's time. She opened the attaché case she brought with her, a sleek black leather item with silver buckles. It didn't escape her notice that Natasha warily watched her bring it up to the table and open it. Her whole body was tense as Maria reached inside it for the case file, a thick folder and an accordion file for the loose sheets that couldn't have holes punched into them.

"You were working on Hydra and Ten Rings cases before the Red Room situation came into play," Maria began. She laid down the folder and the file on the table and pushed them toward Natasha. "We have no intel on the Ten Rings' current locations or activity, but right now there is a lot of activity inside of Hydra. With their power structure gone, and that of AIM pretty much obliterated over the past year, there's a power vacuum. Several candidates have stepped up, and the most prominent among them is Baron von Strucker."

Pausing to watch Natasha delicately open the folder to start looking at its contents, Maria gave her a moment. "That's what we know about him and his rise through Hydra ranks. In the accordion file is what we know about his experiments."

"Experiments," Natasha echoed, a slight husky note to it.

She didn't wince, but Maria wanted to. The last thing she wanted to do to a probably traumatized agent was send them right back out into the same trauma. It was what they had done in the preceding years; she had checked, and Natasha hadn't had any vacation time since she had gone undercover as Natalie Rushman at Stark Industries.

Nodding, Maria eyed the accordion folder. "Similar work with memory alteration, but also the creation of something he had called his 'miracles.'"

"Human subjects," Natasha guessed, voice clipped.

"Yes. We don't know what the point of it was. Others that went in didn't come back out."

That assessing gaze was back, and Maria hit it head on. She wasn't lying to Natasha and wasn't going to force her to take it. Now that Natasha was a consultant, she had a choice. She didn't have to go on this mission. Even Fury's "requests" all had carried the ring of an order, and Natasha hadn't ever refused orders before.

Maybe she should have.

Natasha carefully went through the accordion file's contents, and Maria remained silent, letting her look for her herself. Her expression was stoic as she went through the pictures, the fragments of data salvaged from burned out labs and bombed homes, the guesses that prior agents had made as to the purpose of the Baron's work.

Putting everything back into the file and folder where she found them, Natasha stacked the file over the folder and then pushed it back across the table to Maria. "I can't."

Not _I won't,_ Maria noted, but _I can't._

"The memory modification work?" she asked.

"All of it."

There was nothing else forthcoming, so Maria took the material back and put it into the attaché case. "Is there any insight you can give us? Any suggestion as to where to begin looking?"

"No."

Maria lofted an eyebrow at her, waiting. But Natasha was just as good at the waiting game, just as good at the subtle body cues. If anything, her ability was legendary, the yardstick used in SHIELD espionage classes. If Natasha didn't want Maria to know what she was thinking, she wouldn't know. It was as simple as that.

"What can you tell me?" Maria asked finally. There was no bullying, no censure, no judgment in her tone. Just curiosity, the need to complete this task.

"There are obvious things," she replied dismissively. "When dealing with memory, it's a tricky thing to get right. Machines involving drugs, electric current, those are standard. Sensory and sleep deprivation help enhance those effects. Sometimes hallucinogenic compounds."

How much did it cost Natasha to tell Maria those things, as if she didn't have any personal experience with it? She didn't react outwardly, merely nodded. "Staffing would be an issue, I suppose. Especially medically trained staff."

"It would likely be a large operation," Natasha said quietly. "To maximize cost effectiveness."

"Had he ever been in your sights before?" Maria asked, curious.

"No. They were stealing SHIELD tech and data. That was the bigger priority for me," Natasha said in that quiet tone. "What allowed it to go on for so long is that Hydra is compartmentalized. It isn't just that two heads will spring up where one agent fell. It's that each arm is separate, with different goals and different agents in charge."

"Plausible deniability if someone's detained."

"Exactly."

There was a long pause, almost uncomfortable. "You're still our expert in this organization."

Natasha didn't react outwardly. "You should cultivate others."

Maria nodded as if it was an expected response. "You're still recovering," she said quietly, getting to her feet. "We've always asked a lot of you, and you've always delivered. I think we lost sight of what _your_ needs were, and that there should always be limits."

She didn't get up, and shot Maria a wan smile. "That's just it, Agent Hill," she murmured, lips curling into a sardonic smile. "I wasn't supposed to have any."

Discomfited more than she wanted to admit, Maria nodded and walked back out the way she came. As much as it surprised her to see Loki in the vicinity, she had known he was in the building. He had nowhere else to go now that he was permanently banned from Asgard. All SHIELD agents were to be on alert around him, in case he got it in his head to do something drastic or stupid to alleviate his boredom. Few people knew of Natasha's involvement or her attempt to bring him into the fold; apparently this was the one area where she simply couldn't deliver on her promises.

Loki eyed her warily. "What did you discuss with her?"

"It's none of your concern."

"What happens to her is definitely my concern."

There had been speculation as to why he had helped SHIELD with the rings of power, or why he helped Clint Barton and Steve Rogers track down Natasha. There had been Sam Wilson as well, but he wasn't a SHIELD agent, and his involvement had been hidden from SHIELD until it was impossible to hide anymore. He was still healing nicely, and Fury was trying to decide if he was willing to hire Sam; he knew of the organization and likely too many high level secrets. Hiring him was a good way of containing him.

Maria eyed him steadily and he returned her gaze. It didn't fool her that he was leaning against the wall with arms crossed; he likely picked up the pose from one of the humans in the Tower and thought it would make him appear less threatening. That didn't really work, but she pursed her lips and thought quickly.

"You were never formally cleared to be an Agent or consultant," she said. "The information I have is strictly classified and highly sensitive."

"As were the endeavors I assisted Natasha with," he replied coolly.

Point, and she nodded. "Other than as a trickster, what would you have to offer on this?"

He blinked slowly at the word _trickster,_ as if startled but wanted to hide it. Did he perhaps not recognize her from his demolition of the Tesseract research facility? Quite possibly, given that her hair was longer and not pulled back. She looked more office ready than field ready at the moment, though she had a Glock 19 in a shoulder holster.

"You need someone to do very dangerous things," he said, his voice a velvety purr. "We can do this dance, Agent, but if Natasha refused you, I'm sure you have few options left."

She held out the attaché case, but he made no move to take it. "This is all the information we have, all the original data. People are disappearing. Rumor has it that Baron von Strucker is dabbling in memory alteration and the creation of 'miracles,'" she told Loki crisply. "Every agent we sent undercover to find out what the hell that is never returned."

"Those impossible missions are all you've ever used Natasha for, isn't that so?"

"Not all," Maria corrected. "But difficult ones were her specialty. She and Barton were our best strike team, and could get in and out of places most others can't. They never needed an extraction plan from us because they could make their own."

"You think she's broken now."

"On the contrary," Maria replied, a slight huffiness to her tone. "She is a highly capable agent, one I've respected for a long time. We might not have been especially close, but we do know each other pretty well. I'm not going to insult her intelligence by second guessing her decisions or infantilizing her. She's been traumatized by what she went through, and it's not even two weeks since she got back from Atlanta. I don't know the extent of it since Fury black boxed her files. Now no one else can get into them."

"Why do you admit this to me?" Loki asked, suspicious.

Maria wiggled the attaché case still dangling from her fingers. "Because this isn't going to solve itself, and I doubt our agents are vacationing in Maui. But we don't _know,_ can't extradite until we do, and can't protect whoever he's experimenting on."

Loki ambled forward lazily and took the case. "What time frame did you expect this to be completed in?"

"It's a search and destroy mission. Go in, figure out what the hell is going on, take him down if necessary. She has the time and flexibility to do that however she wants."

"Then perhaps I may be able to help you after all."

She held his gaze steadily. "Can you be trusted on this?"

His smile was thin and humorless. "I have seen what the end result of such tender mercies can be," he replied. "I have learned to take exception to such things."

"I wasn't sure Natasha would take this, and I didn't think she should," Maria told him quietly.

"So this was from Director Fury himself," Loki mused, fingers drumming on the sides of the attaché case absently. "He knows I am here, that I'm involved. He must have thought I would be a contingency plan."

"If he did, he didn't talk to me about it," Maria replied in crisp tones.

"No, he is a sly one. I would not expect him to confide in others if secrecy and supposed chance would serve his aims much better."

"How do I get in touch with you?" Maria asked.

"I'll find you," Loki replied smoothly, lips curling into an amused smile. "I can do a great many things I put my mind to."

That was a non-answer, but Maria wasn't about to press. She removed a business card from the suit pocket and handed it over. "My contact information. Memorize it."

He was incredibly amused by that, and tucked the card into the attaché case. "Good day, Agent Hill," he said quietly. It almost sounded like he had respect for her. "We shall definitely be in touch in the future."

***

Loki put the attaché case down in his suite and then went looking for Natasha. She had disappeared from the common area of the receiving floor, and no one seemed to know where she had gone to. Clint was playing a video game in his suite, glorying in the fact that he didn't have to train new agents or head out into the field doing monitoring or assassination missions if he didn't want to do them. Steve and Sif were nowhere to be found. Bruce wasn't in his usual haunts that Loki knew of, but he was also helping Jane with her current research endeavors into dark matter and dark energy. Thor would also likely be hanging about in her orbit, mooning over her and making comments about her brilliance. Not that it wasn't true, but Loki felt as though his guts would rot at the sight of it. Tony was likely in his workshop, and Loki had no desire to be poked by his robots. Pepper was at SI headquarters, Sam was at physical therapy. Asking Jarvis where Natasha was would be cheating.

He found her on the roof, following the direction sense that was almost like the bond that they used to have. She was staring at the skyline, gaze distant as she sat there crosslegged. Loki sat beside her, and she didn't acknowledge his presence.

"You're upset," he said finally.

"They want me to put my mind at risk," she said quietly. "After everything, knowing that it was one of the very few things I said I could never do for them, they ask it of me."

Her voice was even, but the way she held herself was too stiff, too formal. All of the careful piecing herself back together after Clint's death and resurrection must have come falling apart at the mention of memory alteration. Her emotions were too fragile, even though she hid them away and tried to look as though she was functional. The others worried about her; Tony and Bruce didn't know how to approach her without making it seem like they doubted her. Thor, Sif and Jane didn't often have the opportunity to interact with her over the prior two weeks. Steve and Clint never danced around their feelings, and Sam wasn't around often enough to try to joke with her because of his physical therapy.

Taking a chance, Loki grasped her hand in his. "You didn't take it, of course. You matter too much for such a thing."

"And because I'm being selfish, others are dying. Others are being harmed."

"If you go, there's no guarantee that you won't be affected also. Then others will continue to die and be harmed." Loki's voice was infinitely gentle, something that he hadn't thought he was even capable of a year ago. The lengths he went to because of this woman, and she didn't even care for him the same way.

But that wasn't fair. She did care in her own way. There was no need for her to repeatedly sacrifice herself for him, yet she did. Her heart might have belonged to the Winter Soldier, but that didn't mean perhaps a sliver of it belonged to Loki. He might be a greedy bastard, but he was also pragmatic enough to take what he could get.

"It's a lose-lose situation, I know. But I'm not supposed to fail. Failure gets punished."

And punishment when she was a child sometimes killed the girls.

He didn't like her bleak tone, the resigned acceptance that she was somehow flawed. "You're not a failure, Natasha."

"Of course I am. I didn't bring you in. I didn't bring them in. I'm the one that killed Yelena."

"And look at all the lives you saved. Look down at this city and know that every one of those pathetic little lives is safe because of you."

That didn't seem to give Natasha any comfort. Her gaze took in the skyline again, and then she carefully removed her hand from his. "I'm going inside."

Not knowing what to do, Loki remained where he was. He was floundering painfully with this, and if he thought about it too long, he would grow angry. That would make him want to destroy something to get rid of this pain, and Natasha would see it as her fault. Her fault for not containing him, not being there in the way that he needed, not protecting the innocents that would undoubtedly fall to harm even if he didn't intend it.

He covered his face in his hands and tried to remember how to breathe, how to not care. It used to be so easy. How had he done it before?

Loki remained in place until the chill got to him; he was still in the thin casual clothing he had been wearing inside. Cold didn't bother him as much as it did most Asgardians, a leftover trait from his Jotnar heritage he hadn't lost in the Void. Looking around, he could see the twinkling lights of Midtown, the cars and buses down below, the shadow of people walking. The cloud cover and light pollution blotted out most of the stars; how did Jane do any of her cosmology research in this infernal place? New Mexico or Tromsø made much more sense, since she could see the sky and do the observations and measurements herself.

Going inside, he was startled to see Clint Barton actually looking for him. The man usually didn't seek him out, though in recent months he at least didn't walk out of the room as soon as Loki entered it. Progress of a sort. If he cared about such things. Loki hadn't decided yet if it mattered to him or not, but it probably mattered to Natasha.

"Have you seen Tash? We were supposed to go out to Uno's tonight for dinner," Clint asked, a frown marring his features. "I've been vegging, but I figured she was just sick of playing the same video game."

This couldn't be good.

Frowning, Loki contemplated the archer. "Have you been feeling well?"

"Yeah. Got a clean bill of health from SHIELD right before I quit on them, and got it confirmed with one of the docs that Tony hired on to take care of us. They had no idea I'd died."

"I hadn't realized he did that."

"Because you haven't needed it," Clint replied frankly. "So if you think she's avoiding me because I'm sick, that's not it."

No, she was probably avoiding Clint because _she_ felt damaged.

"What is this Uno's you speak of?" Loki asked, hoping to deflect Clint's interest in her.

He nearly goggled at Loki, then seemed to remember himself. "I really shouldn't be surprised that you have no idea what Pizzeria Uno's is," he muttered. "It's deep dish, Chicago style pizza, and sometimes it's a good thing. New York pizza is way better, and there are at least a dozen places in the city where I'd rather go. But she suggested it this morning, so I figured I could always go. It's not bad, their crust is just wrong somehow compared to the good stuff. And I could always get their pasta, that's good."

"I have a feeling you could go on and on about pizza," Loki said dryly, though his mind was whirring. Natasha had wanted to go out for dinner this morning. Then Maria had arrived just after lunch, and she had been withdrawn ever since. Damn SHIELD and their thoughtlessness.

"Hell yeah," Clint replied, shrugging. "What's not to like? Especially when it's done right."

"Perhaps Natasha no longer feels well."

"She'd tell me, though. She wouldn't just disappear on me."

"You didn't ask Jarvis about her whereabouts?"

Clint snorted. "What for? He'd alert us if there was something wrong."

"Just so, Mr. Barton," came Jarvis' disembodied voice.

Clint shot Loki a look as if to say _See?_ and Loki had to nod. There was nothing physically wrong with Natasha, nothing for Jarvis to report. But she was out of sorts, lost and traumatized in subtle ways. And now without working for SHIELD, she had nothing to distract herself with. There was nothing to lose herself in, even if that was detrimental to her mental stability in the long run. She couldn't become anyone else for a job, couldn't push aside her personal issues and focus on something else.

And suddenly, Loki understood exactly how she felt. This was how he was when he discovered he was adopted. This was how empty he felt when illusions crashed down around him, when he had no purpose, when he didn't belong.

He knew how she fixed it for him. He could return the favor for her.

"Well, you go out and eat your dinner. She might feel under the weather and forgot. I'll let her know about it when I see her."

"That confident you will?" Clint asked in arch tones.

"I have advantages that you don't."

"Like lack of tact and common sense," Clint shot back. It wasn't said with mean intent, so Loki let it slide. The archer shrugged, then headed for the elevator bank. "I have my cell if she wants to call or text me later."

"I'll tell her."

"Try not to piss her off too much, will you, Loki? She's been through a lot."

"I know," Loki told him gravely. "I will not alarm her."

Clint gave him an assessing look as he hit the elevator button, but nodded and left without further comment. Loki waited until the elevator doors closed before going directly to Natasha's suite.

She was lying in bed on her side, facing the window. Her back was to the door, and she didn't bother to turn around when he entered the room. She didn't react when he sat down beside her, either. He could see that her eyes were open, but she didn't seem to react to anything she saw through the glass.

"I could have been anyone," he murmured. "I could have hurt you."

"Jarvis won't let anyone up here that would hurt us."

"You didn't used to rely on him that way."

"I have guns and knives stashed all over if I need them."

That sounded more like her, and Loki couldn't help but smile. "Do you need them?"

"I doubt you're here to kill me."

There was something disturbing in her tone, making the smile slide right off his lips. "Do you want to? Die, I mean. Hel made it difficult to do, but not impossible."

"I know. It probably would have happened in Japan. Definitely should have in Atlanta."

Oh, no. Her voice was so dead, so flat. She didn't even move when he brushed her hair away from her cheek. Loki didn't know what to do, what to say.

"It pains you that they're gone," Loki said quietly. She was grieving, after all. It seemed safe enough to at least acknowledge it.

"You must be happy."

"No, I'm not."

"You hated her. You hated that I left you behind."

"But you love them still. I will never compare to that, I see it now. No matter how hard I pushed, you could never tell me you loved me. You could not, because they held your heart. Even in death, they still do." There was something like resignation in his heart, and it colored his tone of voice. Loki had come to grips with that fact over the past two weeks, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Natasha only exhaled, long and slow and painful. It was answer enough.

"I understand. What have I given you before? Inconvenience, pain, scars, frustration, dread, trouble with your superiors... I was agony for you to bear, and bear it you did. Yet even so, there was some care for me. You saved me from Amora. You brought me to Asgard and kept my secret. You gave me a purpose I tried to scorn."

"That doesn't matter now. I was trying to balance my ledger, is all. I was trying to avoid being a monster. But it doesn't matter. You were right. My ledger can never balance."

Was it trust that made her bare her soul this way? Or that she simply no longer gave a shit?

Loki let his fingers brush against the curve of her cheek gently, tenderly. "You could never be a monster, not as I am."

"Is this a twisted competition?"

"A truth I have come to realize," he replied. "I thought to mock you and your efforts when we first met on the helicarrier. I thought that I could goad you into a miserable display of pain, that it would cause you to weep and gnash your teeth, run back to the others and confirm what a horrid creature I was. But you could not be swayed because you are not me. You're not as monstrous and cruel as I am. You don't glory in others' pain. You don't wish for death to rain down upon your enemies. You still believe in innocence. You still try to save them."

"I didn't—"

"The Hand and Black Spectre agents were not innocent," Loki replied, not caring if there was a hard edge to his voice now. "That doctor in California was not an innocent. The Sarkissians were not innocent."

"It doesn't excuse my role in it. I should have stopped them."

"To what end? So they could kill you? Mock your effort to turn them to a greater purpose? You have been nothing but endless grace and comfort. You truly are the balm I accused you of being, and if they could not see that, they were not worthy of you."

And he meant it, because he knew he wasn't worthy of her. That didn't stop him from desiring her, from being jealous of the affection she had for others, for wanting to monopolize her and dream of the day she would truly approve of him. It wasn't going to be this day, and it might not even happen on her deathbed, but that didn't stop him from wanting it.

Natasha simply closed her eyes. "It doesn't matter now. They're dead."

The bleak tone hurt him physically, and Loki bent over her curled form. He touched his forehead to her temple, wishing he could do something to ease her pain. There was their suspended deal, which she seemed to have forgotten was suspended the week before, and he had been so hopeful initially that it would be enough. Now he wasn't so sure.

"Don't forget the friends you still have here," he murmured gently. "You were supposed to have dinner tonight with Barton."

"Shit."

"You forgot."

"Yeah. Wasn't hungry enough to remember."

"Do you feel anything right now?" he asked, almost dreading her answer.

"No, not really."

Loki sat up and tugged on her arm so that she had to sit up. "Then come with me."

"Why?" she asked, no apparent wariness in her tone. There should have been, as much as that had always stung. Did she simply not care anymore? Was her spirit gone?

She would never miss him this way, Loki knew. She wouldn't necessarily celebrate the way Tony probably would, but she would never be so close to catatonia with her grief. It wouldn't hit her this hard. Her layers and shields would remain in place, and no one would ever guess at her true feelings.

"You helped me when I felt nothing, when I _was_ nothing, even if I didn't recognize it at the time and cursed you for it. You gave me peace, not just at the end of a blade or a fist, but at the touch of your hand and the sound of your voice." Loki paused, searching her expression for some kind of recognition. He didn't see it. "I would give you the same," he said softly, cradling her face in his hands. "I would return the gift you gave me."

"Like when you had me tell you about Yelena."

It also meant he knew far more about the Red Room and their tactics than he was really comfortable knowing. He likely didn't know it all and never would, but he had the same unsettled feeling underneath his skin that he had back on Asgard when he saw the carelessly strewn bodies at the mine. Loki was more comfortable with casual, distant cruelty. Killing in absentia and seeing numbers in a tally. He wasn't comfortable with seeing the direct result of his choices or the naked fear and pain of that type. Others fearing his action and wanting to appease him? That was heady stuff. But the desperation and hopelessness that came just before murder and abject torture? No, that wasn't his style at all.

"I owe you a debt, Natasha, and I mean to repay it."

That she could respond to. That she could accept.

She took his offered hand, nodding, and let him lead her to the Astoria apartment.

***  
***


	2. Offerings

The apartment in Astoria looked the same as it had the last time Natasha had been there. Loki's portal took them directly to the bedroom, and Natasha just stood there, not sure what to do. Her mind was a blank, layers stripped down until nothing was left but uncertainty. She couldn't remember which day of the week their deal was supposed to cover. Was it Wednesday or Thursday night? Or Friday? Their safe word was a name. Anders... No. Not a person's name, a city name. She closed her eyes, ashamed she couldn't remember this. What was her excuse? It had been months, yes, but she should have still remembered something like that.

Loki stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "Natasha," he murmured, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head. That wasn't how scenes opened, so it probably wouldn't matter what day of the week it was. It wouldn't matter if she forgot their safe word—

Andorra.

 _He couldn't use the safe word when the venom burned through his skin like acid, he was screaming for her to move when it burned through her skin, damaged muscle and bone. He used it in Asgard, the terror of_ ergi _too much for him to bear. He had been a she, yes, she could remember the taste of Loki on her tongue, the feel of her pressing in close, and it wasn't like Emilia at all, nothing like Yelena—_

She shivered in his arms, trying to keep her breathing still. It felt as though years of training had come undone. This was why they wanted to erase memories, wipe out personalities, overlay new ones, _take it all out, wipe them down, clean them out, start over. Start over._

"Natasha," Loki murmured, hand sliding down her arms to grasp the hem of her Henley. "You don't have to do anything. You don't have to fear anything. This stops when you say it does, it doesn't push past your comfort."

"Our safe word—"

"This isn't..." His voice hitched. "We didn't renegotiate the terms," he murmured, lips pressed into her hair. Was he shivering, too? "I won't. Not now, not like this. You can use the word if you want, if that feels safer. But I will stop if you say 'stop' or 'no' or 'get the hell off me,'" he said, his voice wavering a bit, thick with emotion. "This doesn't have to be anything or mean anything if you don't want it to. But all you have to do is feel. I promise you, I will keep you safe. It's safe here, and only the two of us are here. There's nothing and no one else. You can check if it'll make you feel better, but I will never let anything happen to you here."

She squeezed her eyes shut tight and let her hands fall over his. She gently started tugging upward, a silent order for him to take off the shirt. Once upon a time, she had said something similar to him, hadn't she?

_I wish for you to have peace._

"I understand," she said, keeping her eyes closed as the fabric whispered past her face. "You won't hurt me."

It hadn't always been so, but somewhere along the lines, things changed. A one-off turned into something extensive and complicated, unforeseen consequences spiraling out of control. _She_ was out of control, and naked fear shot through her.

"Wait," she murmured as he stripped the rest of her clothing away. Turning to face him, Natasha gave him a level gaze. Her center was off, tilted, and she probably was giving everything away as she stared at him. "Let me do something first."

Loki let her undress him, let her take his soft cock into her mouth to suck. He loved this part, loved how she would kneel, cheeks hollowed out from the suction, eyes looking up to him in a deceptively demure manner. He would feel in control, powerful, dangerous.

But he stopped her before it went too far, his entire body shaking. When she stood in confusion, he was gasping for breath, dazed by something she didn't understand. "I saw this," he murmured when she gave him a questioning look. "Something like this. I can't explain it, it sounds wrong even as I try to say this, I can't—" He took in a shuddering breath. "And this wasn't about me, Natasha. I don't need this now."

"I know this," she said, surprised by the rasp in her voice. It was raw pain, the agony of a soul scraped past its endurance. "I know what to expect."

Grasping the back of her neck and bending down to touch his forehead to hers, Loki gave her a sad, wilted smile. "I know that feeling. I do. That emptiness, that pain, that rage and grief and misery? I live it every day, every moment, every breath. It's what I am, the monstrous thing beneath my skin clawing its way to the surface. I tried to hide it, I tried to change it, and while you were away, I tried to be what you wanted me to be. But I can't shake that feeling, Natasha, I can't be _good._ Not even for you, as much as I want to.

"But I can help you the way you helped me, the way you quieted the pain. You helped fill the gaps inside, you brought me my measure of peace."

He kissed her then, desperate passion and tenderness all at once. She could feel it, the emotion they dared not name, the twisted and dangerous thing between them that didn't fall neatly into any categories. Tipping backward and sideways and reality slipping from her grasp, Natasha felt the coverlet on the bed at her back. Her legs splayed open, wide enough to accommodate Loki's hips, and she would try to make herself wet for him if it came down to it. Surely she could fake something at a time like this. It was almost reflex, wasn't it? Madame had worked so hard with all the girls to make sure they had their training—

Loki had his hands on her hips, wisps of magic brushing against her breasts, stomach, groin and thighs. Too many hands, too many mouths, and then terror rose behind it. Because it had to be Yelena and James, it had to be a tangle of bodies on a ratty motel bed, in hiding and whispering in the dark about how they belonged together, how they would always save each other, and those promises died in a river of blood.

"No," Natasha gasped, twisting away from the magic. "No magic," she said, looking at Loki in desperation. "Please, just you. Only you right now, please."

The magic disappeared as Loki nodded. Now there were only his hands on her hips, the light drag of his half erect cock against the inside of her thigh. "As you wish," he murmured.

Before she could try to make some lame joke to lighten the mood, he shifted his position and then pressed his mouth to her. It didn't matter anymore if she was dry and shivering, if she felt like a mess. His lips traced her folds and his tongue dipped into her slit. Loki did like this, licking up into her as a thirsty man would gulp any water available to slake his thirst. His fingertips ghosted along her thighs and hips, light, subtle touches, just one pair of hands. The fingers were slim and long, the touch hesitant and gentle, as if asking permission to be there. The desperation was for her affection, not to get inside her skin as quickly as possible before they had to get on with the mission at hand.

Natasha reached down and grasped Loki's head, sliding her fingers through his hair. It had gotten longer since she had first seen him, perhaps because he had figured out that she liked it. She kept her eyes open to watch him working on her, mouth dipping up and down and he licked deeply into her, fingers spreading her wide for him. As his mouth moved up to lick her clit, she sucked in a breath and a bolt of pleasure shot through her. She yanked on his hair to keep him in place, a not so subtle message that this was what she wanted. He flicked his eyes up at her, gaze intense with desire. She grasped a breast and rolled her nipple between her fingers, watching his pupils dilate even more.

He lapped at her folds even after she came, until she was slick and slippery, building up toward another orgasm. Natasha trembled, a _James_ nearly on her lips even though there wasn't the rasp and burn of stubble on her thighs, no sense of urgency to fuck before they got caught and punished.

She whimpered despite herself, and let go of her breast to shove a fist against her mouth to muffle the sound of it. Instinct.

Loki shifted position, her legs falling from his shoulders. His eyes were blown wide, lips shiny, cock fully erect now. Oh, yes, he had always liked this.

But to her surprise, instead of sliding deep inside of her, he left the bed to get the coiled length of black chain. Instead of appearing tremulous at holding it, he looked to her with clear eyes. He wanted her, and he wanted her permission to use the chains.

"What are you going to do?" she rasped.

"Trust me?" he asked in answer.

She paused for a fraction of a second. "With this."

"Then hold out your hands."

He bound her wrists with the chain, smooth as glass, heavy as guilt, stronger than adamantium and resistant to magic. Loki never broke eye contact as he did so, and they were both aware of the inherent trust in this. It was similar to their brokered deal, yet different. He wasn't dominating her, he wasn't pushing her to exhaustion by fucking her until she couldn't walk. This was asking her to extend that trust outside the deal, to acknowledge that he cared for her and would not harm her, and would stop when she asked him to.

And if he didn't, they both knew it would be the end of their association for good.

The chain was lifted up so that her arms were up over her head, and Loki attached it to the ceiling with his magic. For a moment, Natasha remembered Yelena, the Red Room, the shitty motel room and her slim hands, James behind her and then—

Loki cradled her face in his hands, lips pulled into a smirk. "Remember when I found you outside your TriBeCa apartment?" he purred.

Natasha froze, breath caught in her chest for a moment. This wasn't him trying to mess with her head, not exactly. Not in the way she feared.

He turned her around and wrapped his left hand around her throat. The other skimmed down her torso until he came to her hip. Pulling back a little, it tilted her into an angle similar to the one he had placed her in when she dangled over an elevator shaft. That wiped out the memory of Yelena and James and the A frame in the Red Room for certain.

As his fingers slid into her, he made a soft humming sound of appreciation. "Who knew it would come to this? You're more than a pretty plaything, more than what you wanted me to believe at the time. You've come to mean _so much..."_

Loki kept his lips next to her ear, his breathing harsh as he worked his fingers in and out, a steady rhythm that she liked. He curled the fingers of his left hand, fingernails running along the smooth column of her throat. His hips jerked against her ass, and his teeth came to rest on her shoulder, biting gently. Natasha whimpered and gasped, wriggling against him. She didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. Her heart was in her throat, her memories shaken and sliding every which way. Clenching down around his fingers heightened the sensation, and Natasha had to shut her eyes. There was a tightness behind her breastbone, and she almost wanted to cry at the horrible injustice of it all. She was tied to Loki, he was trying to help, and here she was thinking about James and Yelena and the past and their past and—

She came almost in spite of herself, a ragged groan ripped from her throat. Loki shifted his grip and lifted her hips so that he could slide her down over his cock, and then he was fucking up into her, hard and fast and desperate, teeth at her shoulder and groans in his throat, her cries helpless and feral at the same time. _Yes, make me feel, make me not think, make me come and come and come and let me not_ think _anymore..._

He spilled into her, growling, and nipped at her earlobe with his teeth. "I'm going to cheat, dear one," he said, a possessive note to his voice. "I know you asked for no magic, but if I use it on _myself,_ to make it so I last for you..."

"That's okay," she whimpered. As long as she could feel him sliding into her, as long as she didn't have to remember, as long as her grief was pushed aside and she didn't have to pretend that she knew how to function.

And it was okay, no tickle of magic along her skin to feel like hands or mouths, just the sweet sensation of him continuing to fuck her, only one set of hands at her hips to hold her steady, his long fingers brushing her thighs. He was marking her with his tight grip and his teeth, and for as long as the bruises remained, she could maybe remember this soft floating, feeling, drifting helplessly in his hands, his possessive growling behind her. That was new, that was different, that was something that didn't trigger other memories.

When Loki yanked on the chains and sent them tumbling down to the floor, Natasha fell forward onto the bed, her arms numb from lack of circulation. He turned her onto her back and bent down to suckle her breasts, his body covering hers. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pins and needles at every movement, shivers wracking her body. Looking down, he almost looked like James, and the effect was startling. "Loki," she whimpered as a hand snaked down between her thighs. "I still remember them, I need to forget..."

He surged up then so he could lock his gaze to hers. "I _will not_ ever alter your memories, Natasha. Even if you beg me to, even if I could find a way to do it, I will not. It is too delicate a process, and I doubt I have the patience to do it properly."

She cried then, sobbing in spite of her prior resolve not to cry anymore. "I thought I was doing okay," she said, turning away from him, ashamed of her response.

"You are," he murmured, moving to catch her earlobe between his teeth. "You know I wouldn't be responding even half so well. I was a terror while you were in Asgard." Licking the shell of her ear, Loki hummed a calming _galdr_ without actually casting it. "Natasha, you are stronger than you know."

"Sometimes I don't want to be."

"Right now, you don't have to. I'm here. I will destroy anything that you ask me to, you know this. I will not allow you to come to harm."

"If I let you. If I ask you."

His lips quirked against her ear. "I am rather self serving, you know. If I harm something without your express permission, you would deny me your bed and your company. I cannot live with that reality, so I follow your rules. Ask your friends, I have tried very hard with that."

Natasha shook a little as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Okay. Okay." It was more to reassure herself than to answer him, but she needed to hear it, too.

"You're okay," he said softly, moving so that his body hovered over hers, but his weight didn't crush her. "It will be less terrible with time."

"You don't promise me it'll get better," she observed.

"Because I know better than that. I still grieve for the child I was once," he admitted softly. "For the trust I broke without meaning to. But I can't let them know I regret it. I have to look strong, even as I crumble. You're the opposite. You look like you crumble, but you're so strong inside, so much more than I thought you would be when we met. I could never break you."

"James and Yelena have," Natasha whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.

"No," he corrected. "I think you just want them to have done it, so that you have a reason not to put yourself at risk anymore. I think SHIELD put you at risk far too often and in far too many dangerous places. I think they finally made you realize you can't proceed that way anymore. You can't be alone, you can't stretch yourself too thin." He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him so that she rested on his chest. "And it made me realize a great many limitations of my own," he admitted.

"Which is why you can tell me now about them."

"You knew before. I wanted to disagree or be angry with you. I wanted to believe I was inviolate, a god amongst idiot mortals."

"But you're just as fucked up as the rest of us."

"Yes," he agreed with a sigh. "I am."

"So now what?" she asked in a small voice.

"It depends on you," he replied honestly. "I am obviously not as good at this part of things as you are," he added with a sigh.

"What things?"

"Comforting. Nurturing. _Caring,"_ he added, making it sound like an epithet.

Natasha couldn't help it, she gave a burst of startled laughter. "Only you can make it sound as though caring for someone is a horrible thing."

"But it can be," he pointed out.

She considered that, and nodded. "Yes, it can be."

Loki pulled her close, and Natasha allowed it, feeling some measure of comfort in it. "The pain will get less intense. Tolerable, even. You will continue and remember, and it will not ache so sharply or leave you feeling more broken than you are." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Perhaps you would still keep me close, even when you have no need of me."

There was no answer she wanted to give to that, so she stayed quiet, merely keeping her palm on his chest and her body pressed tightly to his. The peace he had wanted to give her had been so brief, it was almost disappointing. He had to feel that as well.

***

Clint gave Natasha a friendly shoulder bump. "Hey, you stood me up the other night. Did Loki ever find you?"

She gave him a slow blink. "Yes. I fell asleep," she lied.

He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Oh, Nat," he murmured. "It's okay, you know. Being upset, I mean. Not okay to stand me up."

It was impossible not to laugh at that, just as he no doubt wanted her to, and she cupped his face in her hands. "Stupid idiot. I know that."

"That it's okay to be upset, or that it's not okay to stand me up?" he snarked.

"Both."

"Good. I got an idea. You come with me down to the gym and spar. You haven't done it in such a long time. I might even get a chance to kick your ass."

Natasha scoffed at him, and on the way they carried on their usual friendly banter that was easy to slide into without thinking. Another short measure of peace and quiet, a place where she didn't have to think for long. Movement would help, the muscle memory taking over. Move and then countermove, thrust and parry, kick and roundhouse, back flip and slide across the mat as best as she could in her loose clothing. Clint was grinning like a loon, enjoying the fighting, not caring that she was slinging back hits as well as taking them. Loki wandered in at one point, observing them. She called out for him to join the two of them, startling both men, but neither of them seemed to object. Maybe out of deference to her. Don't make the grieving woman feel any further pain, give her what she wants.

Only, it didn't feel like they were humoring her. It was good to move, to add back in the weapons she had been comfortable with. Clint didn't want to try fighting her with a live blade or even her batons; he had learned the hard way through fighting her or Bobbi Morse that the batons hurt like a _bitch_ when they came down over limbs. Loki, however, didn't seem to care if he was struck in the chest, arms, legs or even face. He grinned at her, his sharp-edged manic smile, the threatening one, the one that had faded from Clint's nightmares around the time of Amora's death at Natasha's hands. It didn't seem chilling at the moment, maybe because Clint had seen Loki curled up and shivering with pain and misery, had seen the blood and gouges in his flesh, the quiet desperation in him without Natasha. He was just as human as the rest of them, and the curtailed magic didn't frighten him as much anymore.

As much. Clint wasn't stupid, after all.

Clint stood back and watched as Loki and Natasha switched to live blades. These weren't the ornate and spelled ones from Asgard, but Natasha had said they had similar heft. That being said, they could still slice through skin easily. Neither seemed to care about that, and they fought a touch harder than the average sparring session would require. It looked like dancing; Natasha moved in forward, one blade in her left hand and her right poised behind her like a fencer, and Loki held his blade in his right hand with his left swept back. They mirrored each other, shifted and moved in concert, occasional swinging arcs parried and countered with a _ting_ sound as the steel connected. They were actually quite beautiful to watch, moving almost as if it was choreographed. Clint could see that Natasha hadn't lost her edge at all while on the run with Bucky and Yelena. At least that wouldn't trouble her.

When they finally called it quits nearly a half hour later, Loki was covered in dozens of small cuts all over his body. Natasha had a few as well, but nowhere near as many, for all that her style involved coming in far too close for comfort. That tactic might put her into harm's way, but it also limited the maneuverability of her opponent, while she had no difficulty twisting her blade or contorting her body to draw its edge across Loki. Clint had used the opportunity to drink water and stretch as a cool down, enjoying the show.

"I feel like I should clap," he announced as Natasha mopped her face with a hand towel.

"It would not be remiss," Loki told him, a grin on his face.

"I missed this," Natasha said, stretching. She smiled, meaning it. She felt calmer, a little more settled in herself. "And if we're not running all over the world for SHIELD, we can definitely put aside regular practice times the way we used to."

"I guess we can add Loki to the mix," Clint allowed. "Yanno, thinking about it," he remarked idly, "I haven't seen Steve or Sif around. Those practices with them before were pretty good, but they haven't swung by the gym at all. Think they're doing sparring of a different kind?"

"I thought you didn't enjoy that sort of play?" Loki asked, eyebrow raised. He seemed to be a little rattled, maybe at the thought of Sif still being around.

"So? Others do. I only ask because Sif was teaching Steve swordplay before they left for San Francisco, and it would probably help if they were able to practice with you guys." He grinned at them saucily. "Unless they're working on a whole different kind of swordplay. In which case, go Cap, good to see his social life's perking up."

Natasha decided to ignore the innuendo. "It was great working with her in Asgard. We should see if Sif wants to meet up tomorrow."

On their way through the common area, they were sidetracked by Bruce and Jane stepping out of the elevator. "No way," he was telling her. "No array anywhere on this planet is that sensitive to pick up the radiation signature."

Jane was about to reply when she noticed the others and stopped to grin and wave. "Oh. Hi. Were you going for lunch or something?"

"Or something?" Clint replied.

"More like a break," Natasha added. For a moment, it felt almost surreal, as if she had slipped sideways into another dimension. There should be danger and someone trying to kill her, or a situation where she had to hold herself aloof and separate to maintain her safety. Instead, they were all standing around like ordinary people trying to decide what to do for a meal.

"Same as us!" Jane said. "Research break, really. Bruce is really good at insisting on that kind of thing. I don't always notice when time passes."

"Good for crunching the data," Bruce said, "but not when it comes to the body's needs."

"What are you working on?" Natasha asked, trying to be polite.

"How much do you know about cosmology?" she asked seriously. "We're working on classifying the nature of dark energy and measuring dark matter. So far, we do know it's not antimatter, since there isn't the release of gamma radiation." Here, Bruce waggled his fingers a little self deprecatingly, given he was a gamma radiation expert of sorts. "But! Last summer was some new fantastic data with specific X ray emission spectra. Other space based observatories also found the same data, so it's definitely not artifactual, and it was found in galaxies currently theorized to have large quantities of dark matter in them already."

Jane paused when she took in their blank faces. "Oh." She shrugged. "Probably not a condensed version, huh? Right now I'm just looking into verifying data that's been put out there, and trying to get in touch with observatories to pick up more data that might have better resolution."

"We've also been trying to convince Tony that expanding the aerospace arm of Stark Industries is a good thing for him."

"Aeronautics," Jane said earnestly, "not weaponry or military contracts. If he's able to send up satellites with the spectrometers we designed on them. I couldn't convince other private companies that yes, we designed these and not a team of a hundred."

"And Culver University doesn't have the budget to launch a new satellite," Bruce added.

"You'd think they would, after Jane proved her theories correct," Clint offered.

Jane flashed him a grateful smile. "Yes, but their astrophysics budget was never very large to start with. They recommissioned a military satellite for near-Earth object observations, but it wasn't geared for deep space phenomena. We wound up using public data and applying for grants left and right." Jane shook her head ruefully. "I don't miss that now that I'm on Tony's payroll, that's for sure."

"I'll take your word for it," Natasha replied diplomatically.

"Did you know there's a black widow binary pulsar?" she asked, grinning at Natasha. "It's a whole separate area of research than what I've been working on, but it also has specific X ray components and some gamma radiation. Very exciting."

Natasha merely smiled back. Though she was more reserved in her response, she could probably wax just as rhapsodic about weaponry. "I can see that."

"It's all right. If you want, I can show you pictures of Einstein Rings and the Einstein-Rosen bridges that I've been trying to do the main calculations from. It's very elegant and objectively pretty, even if the physics of it isn't easily understood."

Taking it as an overture to friendship, Natasha nodded. "Might be nice if it doesn't take away from the work you're doing. I have more time on my hands now, but you might not."

Jane merely smiled brightly at her. "Yes, but some wormholes can be converted to time machines, so I just might."

Not getting the supposed joke, Natasha just kept her smile in place. "So. Lunch?"

"Yes! We were thinking pizza," she replied.

"Now you're speaking my language," Clint added. "Are we staying here or going out? Because I know this fantastic place three avenues over, a tiny hole in the wall that only locals know."

Jane looked over at Bruce, who shrugged. "Sounds good to us, I guess."

"We were just sparring, so can you wait for a quick shower and change?" he asked. He glanced at Natasha and then Loki. "Fifteen minutes?"

"Deal," Bruce replied with a smile. "And we'll try to keep the physics to a minimum."

"Hey, my knowledge of physics is pretty much limited to force, acceleration and momentum," Clint said with a diffident shrug, looking to head to his suite. "Astrophysics sounds like scifi stuff to me."

"Some of it is. But the fun part is when it turns out to be true," Jane told them with a grin. Given her work yielded a way to reach Asgard reliably, she knew what she was talking about.

Lunch was good, the company pleasant, and Natasha felt close to her old self again. Returning to Avengers Tower, they sat in the common area with coffees and a chai tea in Natasha's case, discussing with complete seriousness about the merits of New York and Chicago style pizzas for Loki's benefit. He was still unconvinced it was a big enough deal to warrant an actual argument, so Clint declared that they would have to go to Pizzeria Uno's that evening. "And you owe me a dinner, Natasha," he added, poking her side. "No more oversleeping!"

"We should get some of the others with us," Natasha suggested. They had stuck by her through all of the chaos, and she was feeling somewhat social at the moment.

"Don't know if we can reach Tony and Pepper," Bruce told her. "The whole aeronautics thing we've inspired means that they were going to meet some people to see how feasible it is. I think Pepper mentioned Lockheed Martin."

"Good company," Natasha remarked, then sipped her tea.

"Thor would _love_ to come, I'm sure," Jane began. She stopped and eyed Loki. "You'll be okay with that, right? Lunch was fine, but he wasn't there."

"Where is your illustrious companion?" Loki asked, voice heavy with sarcasm. He looked just as unamused when Natasha balled up a napkin to throw at his head.

"I've been doing research, so I haven't seen him in... two or three days, I think?"

"At least that much," Bruce agreed. "I told you to get out of the lab, but I think you curled up on the couch and fell asleep there."

"Too much effort to go to the suite," Jane said with a shrug.

"Well, I'm sure Jarvis can tell us where he is," Clint said. "Hey, Jarvis! Where's Thor?"

"I'm afraid that information is classified."

Though the AI sounded apologetic, everyone in the room looked around in surprise. "Wait, what?" Clint asked. _"Classified?"_

"That is correct. There are certain parameters that must be met for secrecy protocols to be put into place. I cannot tell you Thor's location."

Natasha's gaze sharpened. "Thor wouldn't hide something like that. So it's someone else's protocol that is in place. Jarvis, where's Sif?"

"I'm afraid that information is classified."

Again, they all looked at each other in concern. This was unusual, given that Sif wasn't even a regular visitor to the Tower.

"Where's Steve?" Natasha asked, frowning.

"I'm afraid that information is classified."

"Okay, this is ridiculous," Bruce said, frowning. "What the hell is going on that's classified?"

"I didn't think anything on these floors was classified," Jane commented.

"They're not. They _shouldn't_ be," Clint corrected himself. "There was that time Loki threw up barriers to block Natasha's suite from sensors."

Everyone looked at Loki, who bristled. "I did nothing!"

"So it's not you. That means it's programming," Natasha said.

"I call scavenger hunt," Clint said firmly. "I doubt it's any of our rooms, because we're not the ones that's been missing lately. Let's divvy up and try to track down Steve, Sif and Thor. This isn't like them at all."

"And I doubt it's some untoward liaison, given that Thor's paramour is right here and unaware of what's going on with him," Loki said, frowning a little. "Whatever else I may say of him, Thor would not break bonds he forges easily."

The three weren't found in any of the common areas or in their suites. Bruce and Jane hadn't seen signs of them on their laboratory floor, but admittedly hadn't looked at the other floors. Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance. "Other floors?" Natasha asked.

"There's several floors set aside for labs below the residential ones. You know, separate elevator and all that. Usually they're accessed by key cards or private access codes," Jane informed them, pulling out her own key card as an example.

Bruce nodded. "There are ways around that. Stairwells between lab floors. I think we should check them out, see what's going on there."

"Let's make a concerted sweep of the area," Natasha said, a businesslike tone to her voice. It was almost like a training exercise with SHIELD newbies, making her feel a pang of sadness at the thought of not working with them again. Perhaps she should call Melinda; she hadn't seen her in a long time, and hadn't even gotten around to returning any of her phone calls since her return to the Tower. Melinda would want to kick her ass for being so stupid as to meet Yelena in the first place, with only minimal backup.

The five of them headed to the main lab floor where Bruce and Jane were doing their research. It was a fraction of the space available, but the rest of the floor was empty. "In case I get into something and want more assistants or something," Jane commented when Natasha asked about it. "Right now, most of my work involves high powered computers crunching numbers into equations and running simulations of the Big Bang. All I really need are the computers, books, tables, that kind of thing."

"Anyone else doing research?"

"Tony has his workshop, of course, that's upstairs. He really uses the entire space, and it certainly wouldn't be classified," Bruce replied.

"So we go down."

Clint and Natasha took the lead, even though they had no weapons in hand. The two of them _were_ weapons. Bruce could become one; Tony had insisted that he reinforced the entirety of the building's upper floors as it was rebuilt, so he never had to fear doing structural damage if the Hulk emerged and ran through walls. Jane hung back behind Bruce, and Loki brought up the rear, ready to cast spells if need be. He didn't even make any cutting remarks to Jane about her lack of physical prowess if something dangerous was going to happen. After all, why would a research floor be considered classified? The work areas hadn't been classified even when he had turned female and was taking apart magical artifacts.

The floor directly beneath Jane's research lab was entirely bare. The empty space was creepy despite the open space and large glass windows overlooking New York City. Perhaps it was the way their footsteps echoed or that it was so sterile despite its lack of use.

Down another floor, and this time there was a partition near the stairwell. It had a key card panel and a required code for entry. Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance, then Clint made a sweeping gesture, indicating that Natasha should try to hack it.

She examined the panels and then straightened. "Jarvis, open the door."

"I'm sorry, Agent Romanoff. Parameters clearly state that there must be both the key card and passcode entry in order to authorize access to this floor."

"If I open this, Jarvis," she said in a steely tone, "no one is using this panel again."

"Understood, Agent Romanoff," Jarvis replied. The door didn't open.

A roundhouse kick knocked off the panel in its entirety, and she pulled out the wires to splice them again in order to open the door. An alarm started blaring, but Natasha strode forward, jaw set, not even looking behind her. The others followed, looking around the area. It wasn't a computer lab, but seemed to be a series of hallways and rooms, almost as if someone wanted to simulate an apartment of some kind.

They all went through the rooms together, instinctively not wanting to separate. Something was very wrong with this lab space, and the silence was eerie.

Until it wasn't silent anymore.

It sounded like wood breaking, a crashing of furniture against a solid object, and some grunting from effort. Natasha took off, concern on her face. Steve was down here somewhere. So were Sif and Thor, and she didn't know what the three of them were doing, but that didn't sound like a very good situation was taking place. Sparring shouldn't involve breaking furniture in a secret lab space that looked like an apartment.

She stopped short, and the others fanned out behind her.

In front of them was a glassed in area near one of the large floor to ceiling windows overlooking Midtown. There were a fair number of air vents near the ceiling in the area, which really was nothing more than a fancy cell. A number of holes were in the glass, all an inch in diameter and spaced evenly between chest to head height. There was a slot with a small ledge, the kind meant to hold a tray for prisoners. A divider seemed to give a little privacy to a bathroom area, but the divider was only waist high and the toilet and sink were still fairly visible. Pockmarks in the glass seemed to indicate that the occupant tried several times to break it from the inside out, but had failed. Inside the area were the remains of a bed, table and chair, all of which had been smashed to splinters. 

Steve was standing in front of it, distress on his features as he stared at the cell's occupant. Sif and Thor were with him, watching him in concern. Steve didn't seem to even notice it, he was so focused on the cell's occupant.

Which was one James Buchanan Barnes. Also known as the Winter Soldier.

"You can't do this, Buck," Steve was saying. "I want to trust you, but—"

Natasha made a strangled sound, eyes focused on the Winter Soldier in shock. Her insides had all run cold, her spine stiff and her breath coming in short gasps. He wasn't dead. She thought he had died in San Francisco, but _he wasn't dead._

Hearing the sound, Steve turned to see what the matter was. His mouth dropped open in surprise at the sight of them. "What are you doing here? It's a locked floor."

For a moment, Natasha felt a rage so white hot it was nearly blinding. She wasn't even fully conscious of running forward and then punching Steve in the face, causing him to stagger back in shock from her attack. Clint might have said something, there might have been some kind of surprised shout from Thor and Sif. That didn't matter, and she was focused on the figure on the other side of the glass. Raising her hand, she approached it, eyes filling with tears. She touched the glass, knowing she couldn't break it but wishing she could.

"James," she choked out, leaning her forehead against the glass.

He approached from the other side, his harsh expression softening as he saw her. "Natalia."

"I thought you were dead. I thought I killed you again. Like I killed Yelena."

Reaching up, James touched her hand on the other side of the glass, fingers brushing against each other through the holes. "It was only a matter of time for her."

Natasha lifted her head, eyes filling with tears. "James," she whispered, voice breaking.

"No, no," he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "No tears for me, Natalia. I can withstand any tortures they have for me. But you are free. _Take it._ Leave me if you must."

"Not again," she promised, curling her fingers in the holes. "Twice now I thought I was the cause of your death..."

"I guess that kind of thing just doesn't take," he said, giving her a crooked smile.

"Natasha," Steve said behind her, rubbing his jaw. "I'm sure this looks bad, but—"

She spun around and punched him again. "You kept him from me!" she snarled. "What right do you have to do this?!"

From this angle, she could see the cots, bedding and stacks of MRE's, trail mix and bottled drinks. It looked as though Steve had spent the entire ten days in this place, trying to go through with his misguided wish to have James become Bucky. Sif and Thor likely were keeping him company, having never met James before the debacle in San Francisco.

It likely never occurred to Steve that Natasha would need to be informed. He probably just zeroed in on James, on trying to keep him from slipping through his fingers again. He meant well, she understood that. But he had kept James from her. He had left her alone in her grief. He was so focused on his old friend that he was ignoring the present and had compounded it all by putting him into a cell.

Steve sighed. "You're not happy with me. I get it. But—"

"Get him out. _Now."_ Her voice brooked no argument.

"It's not safe, Lady Natasha," Thor offered, coming between Steve and Natasha. "He grew very violent toward his friend here. It pains me to think of what he might do to you."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. Thor honestly believed he was warning her to keep her safe. He likely forgot just how deadly she could be, and Natasha wasn't sure if she should feel flattered or insulted. "He stays with me."

When Sif and Thor looked ready to join in with Steve's protest, Loki stepped forward. "I can ensure her safety and his quiescence, of course." He gave the Asgardians a thin smile. "This cage, however well meaning, would never endear him to your friendship."

Steve at least had the grace to look abashed. "When he came to, he tried choking Thor to death and attacked Sif. He beat me up pretty good, too. I thought if he would harm us badly, what could he do to the rest of you? I couldn't let anything happen to the rest of you."

Because he had attacked Sam in Japan and left him injured. Because the others wouldn't be able to withstand an assault with a metal arm. Because Steve didn't want to lose anyone else that he cared about, and it seemed almost certain.

Natasha understood it. If she was in his position, she might have done the same thing. But this was _James,_ her James, and she couldn't find it in herself to forgive him just yet. She still wore her grief like a shroud, pricking at her painfully. Yelena's death still weighed heavily on her, and she wouldn't let them harm James.

"Get him out now. Or I will."

Her tone was deadly serious, laced with rage. Clint stepped up to give Steve a pointed look, and both Bruce and Jane were giving him disappointed looks. Loki stood closest to Natasha, just beyond arm's reach of the glass, giving the Asgardians a wide berth. She could feel the crackle of magic beginning to rise beneath his skin. Perhaps she was more sensitive to his magic now. It wouldn't surprise her if Hel had added a few more gifts along the way, if she considered this to be a gift.

Reluctantly, Steve coded in the sequence to release the cell. "Natasha, I'm sorry..."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," she snapped, though she was grateful he at least acknowledged the hurt he'd caused. She was on James immediately, ignoring the pained look that flashed across Loki's features. _"Жизнь моя,"_ she whispered. _My life._

 _"Душа моя,"_ he replied, gently cupping her cheek with one hand. _My soul._

"He's mine, Steve," Natasha said, not taking her eyes off of James. She had said something to that effect when she was handling Loki once upon a time. While it hadn't worked out the way she had planned, had actually seemed to backfire spectacularly at first as a matter of fact, Loki wasn't the danger he initially had been. Steve had to concede that much.

When he didn't argue, Natasha left the lab with James, Loki in tow. After a while, the others followed her out, leaving the lab in silence.

***  
***


	3. Searching For A Solution

Not having anywhere else to put him, Natasha brought James to her suite. The first order of business was to get him out of what he had been wearing and clean him up. Clint had ushered Bruce and Jane back to their own lab, declaring the show over. "Now you have your boyfriend back," he added to Jane. "Maybe you should talk to him."

"You know, I think I will," she agreed. "I want to know what's going on." Her tone was forceful enough that Bruce and Clint exchanged a sympathetic look on Thor's behalf.

Natasha didn't have much sympathy for Thor at the moment. She looked to Loki, who had followed her. "I need to clean him up," she began, a little uncertainly. "There's nothing here for him to change into."

"And I saw nothing downstairs," he responded coolly.

She almost wanted to wince. Loki loved her, and while he might accept that she didn't love him back, it had to hurt to see her with the man she did love. She was too tired to play games, to try to flatter him or manipulate him. "Is it too much trouble to find him clothes?" she asked, a slump in her shoulders. It wasn't manipulation if it was truth.

Loki looked at her carefully for a moment, then shook his head. "I can assist you in this."

Closing the gap between them, leaving James behind her staring at the art on her walls, Natasha grabbed Loki's hand tightly. "Thank you."

"I'll need his clothing sizes."

James started stripping out of his clothes, and handed them to Loki without any qualms about his nudity. Though not a prude, Loki appeared startled by it. James merely shrugged at him. "These were what was provided by handlers and then Yelena. I chose nothing."

That seemed to soften Loki's harsh expression a bit, and he nodded. "Have you any preferences?"

"No. I need serviceable attire."

Loki's lip curled in a disdainful smile. "We disagree on what serviceable means."

"Able to move," James replied without humor. "Deflect bullets and knife attacks if possible, since they won't give me armor here."

Eyes straying to the juncture of metal to flesh at James' shoulder, Loki nodded absently. "You are still a soldier, first and foremost. What do you fight for now?" he asked baldly.

Natasha let her eyes ping pong back to James, wondering what he would say. Loki's patience likely would only go so far, and she was sure they were trying it now.

"Natalia," James replied promptly. "Department X always protected the Black Widow program, and when it was taken over, the directive was never erased."

"Directive," Loki echoed with a frown.

"We all were subject to memory modification," Natasha said quietly. "The difference is, he was an asset, a weapon of war."

"The crude weapon," James said, without any indication of what he felt about it. "She is the stiletto or garrote. She is grace and elegance. I am no such weapon."

Loki eyed him sharply and intensely enough that Natasha knew there would be a discussion about it later, if not an epic shit fit. She was tired already, just thinking about it.

"She is indeed a blade," Loki said carefully. "I believe recent months have been a crucible, and she is being forged anew. And perhaps, you as well."

Well, well. Loki had certainly changed, not just in his treatment of her, but in others. Natasha wanted to take him by the shoulders and demand to know what his game was, but she suppressed the urge and tried to sink into her training. Observe, assess, calculate, look for weaknesses. But his only weakness was _her,_ as far as she could tell right now. Oh, he had many other weaknesses that she had exploited and turned to her purposes before, but those didn't apply in this instance. Now, the only thing that could bring him to his knees was her.

And she didn't like the idea of using that against him at all.

The silence stretched out uncomfortably, and finally Loki nodded. "I will get you apparel you require. I doubt ordinary Midgardian garb will meet your needs and still look appropriate enough that others will leave you be."

Natasha frowned. "So what are you going to do?"

Loki smiled thinly. "Consider it a surprise as you bathe him." His lip curled, and she could see pain and anger in his eyes. "You need to get better acquainted with him, do you not?"

"Loki..."

"Enough," he hissed. "I do this task for you. Ask for nothing more."

He disappeared through a portal, and Natasha sighed, the slump in her shoulders more pronounced now. She didn't jump when James laid a hand on one of her shoulders. "A lover, then. We took you from him before. Yelena didn't think he meant anything."

"She didn't think any of them meant anything to me," she said tiredly. "Even after I told her they were family, she didn't listen."

James looked at her carefully. "You care for him," he said slowly. "And he loves you."

Natasha looked at him intently. "And I love you."

His expression softened, and his hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek. "Natalia."

"It's all right. He's not happy, but he'll get over it."

"No one that loves you could ever get over you."

She stood on tip toe to brush a light kiss across his lips. "Thank you for saying so. C'mon, let's get you washed up. Didn't they allow you a shower in the past two weeks?"

"They did at first."

"But?"

"When I took down the curtain rod and tried to impale their skulls with it, they didn't allow that anymore." At her sigh, James shrugged. "I was locked in. I didn't appreciate that."

"Will I need to lock you into my suite?"

"No. I'll stay if you ask me to."

Natasha smiled warmly at him. "I thought so. Stay here, I'll work on them. As far as I'm concerned, you can walk around naked if you like."

He actually laughed. "I don't think any visitors would care for that."

"I don't exactly care. If they walk in without my permission, they deserve to get surprised."

James bent his head down and grasped the back of her head to kiss her deeply. "So what _are_ your plans for me, Natalia?"

"Get you cleaned up and comfortable for now. Past that, we shall have to see."

"Oh? You didn't have plans for that clean up?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Natasha actually snickered. They could only ever really joke like this when alone before, and some habits died hard. "That's not a plan, James. That's _fact."_

He had always been one for expediency, so it didn't bother James in the slightest to have only Natasha's floral body wash and pouf to get clean with. She scrubbed him down efficiently, then rinsed him off. The grime and grit had worked its way into his skin, and both of them preferred him to be clean before play began. Touch was also a good way to reorient the both of them in this new circumstance; he was still on high alert, poised to react to danger. She still felt numbed with grief, chills in her skin at the thought of how many times he must have cheated death to be standing in her bathroom.

James slid his hands across her skin, smoothed by spells and Hel's gifts. "I am always amazed by this. There used to be scars."

She smiled and ran her hands down his chest. "Spell work erased them. I still remember where they were, though."

Warm water sluicing down around them, James nodded and traced them out across with his fingers. Knife cuts, bullet grazes, scars where bullets had gone straight through her. She took his hand and traced out other wounds she had gotten, even the L-shaped gouge in her lower abdomen that Loki had given her four years ago.

"Dangerous," he murmured, sliding his fingers down to the cleft between her legs.

"Yes," she agreed, pulling him down for a kiss. There was no need to make small talk, to say something pithy here. He was alive, alive, alive, he was touching her and kissing her and ah, he curled his fingers just right inside of her, thumb at her clit. James knew her body inside and out, just as she knew his, and she hummed in delight as she licked into his mouth. "I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I mourned her..."

Holding her tightly in his arms, James teased a climax out of her. "I remember bits and pieces of things," he admitted, mouth all but fused to hers. "I wouldn't tell them. Didn't know how they'd take it if I did."

"And? What do you remember?"

"Mostly you. Some of what Bucky should know. A lot of the Winter Soldier."

The light in his eyes was dark and pained, tragedy filling him. Natasha took his cock in hand and stroked him as he pumped his fingers into her, trying to bring her off again. She tightened around his fingers, lips drawn back in a sad smile. "He might understand all of it in time," she murmured softly. "If we let him."

"I'm not who he remembers—"

"And he's not who you remember either. I think you've both forgotten that."

Natasha shifted position and pushed at his hand, just shy of her own release. She turned and bent over, grasping the edge of the tub for balance as she lifted herself up on tip toes. Wiggling her rear, she looked over her shoulder and gave him a saucy grin. "But this isn't the time for that, is it, James?" she purred.

James grasped her hips and slid home, making her gasp in pleasure. "No, it isn't," he agreed.

He snapped his hips against her, pumping his solid length into her. It was perfect, the way it always was, and just a whisper of touch against her clit with her fingers was enough to bring her off the rest of the way. She bit her lip to muffle her cries, force of habit, and the slight sound made James growl. He picked up the pace, his grip on her hips punishing, and then he reached forward to grasp her hair with his flesh hand and pull. Natasha groaned, whimpering almost incoherently, telling him how good he felt and _right there,_ how she could feel another orgasm building on top of the first, if he could just hold on a little longer.

A third was a bit beyond James at the moment. He groaned and shifted position, spilling into her hot depths, sliding out of her slick channel when he helped her to her feet. Nipping at the curve of her shoulder, she could feel him smile. "Louder than the old days. Or even the new days, if she wasn't involved. I like it."

There was no need to discuss who _she_ was, and Natasha could feel her gut tighten in pain. She had killed Yelena. Oh, she was out of control and had begged her to, the triggers and personality overlays likely getting the better of her. It was something Yelena had wanted, but Natasha still couldn't shake the feeling that if she had only tried harder, there was something she could have figured out to save her.

She clung to James tightly, hiding her tears in the shower water. He held onto her, enfolding her into his warmth, and didn't say a thing.

Some things didn't need to be discussed between them.

***

Loki returned with a glower on his face and tailored clothing of similar make and weave as the clothing he wore. It was Asgardian fabric, flexible enough and soft enough to resemble cotton blended fabric, yet could withstand most simple stabs. "Your high caliber ballistics could still shred such clothing," he had announced, tossing it at James. He had been sitting on the couch in one of Natasha's towels, as she had declared that his other clothing should be laundered. Or burned, if the industrial strength machines couldn't take out the stench and stains. He had simply sat on her couch, knees wide apart so she could look beneath the towel if she wanted, arms perched on the back of the couch. Loki merely sneered at that position. "Spread eagled for her entertainment or inspection."

"Yes," James agreed, no inflection to her tone.

Natasha had shoved Loki out of the way with her shoulder and took the clothes, throwing them into James' lap. "Go get changed."

Once he was in her bedroom, she turned to Loki. "Thank you. I know this isn't an easy situation for you—"

"No," he said, biting off the words. "It is not."

She blew out a pained breath. "Loki. I'm sorry. I don't—"

"Love me. I know. I have no need to hear you say it again." The pain in his voice was naked and raw, nearly making her wince. He wouldn't accept any sympathy from her.

"I wasn't going to say that," she murmured. "I was going to say, I don't know how to thank you, when I know this is difficult for you."

Loki flushed, an ugly mottled red across his cheeks. "Difficult is an understatement."

"I haven't lied to you."

"No, you have not."

"And I don't want to start now." Natasha grasped his hand, fingers curling to brush across the sensitive skin of the inside of his wrist. "I'm being as honest as I know how to be, and I'm trying not to be cruel. I can't—" She sucked in a deep breath, aware of Loki watching her intently, but her mind couldn't seem to guess at the labyrinthine tunnels that made up his. "I can't hurt you, Loki. And I can't hurt him."

His expression softened a fraction, and he cupped her face in his hand. "And so you hurt yourself instead, is that it?"

"I know it's not an acceptable solution."

"No. I would give you peace if I could. I would give you the space between breaths, the stillness without thought, existence without pain. If I knew how you provide this for me, I would return it in kind," he said quietly, not moving. "It is not magic that would do this for you, not when I haven't the knack of it already."

"There's not a trick to it."

"I do not have your surety."

Natasha nodded, fingers still stroking his wrist. "I know. I was trying to help you, before."

Loki gave her a soft, pained smile. "Your friends would say I've learned those lessons well, I think. I accompany Sam on his work, I have spoken with Steve and Clint without them wanting to kill me. I even managed not to taunt the others in this tower."

"An accomplishment," Natasha said, answering his smile with a pained one of her own.

James stepped out of her bedroom and saw them together. He stayed very still, though both saw him in their peripheral vision. The clothes were rather flattering, fitting his shape without being too tight. It would still have some drape to the fabric, allowing him to hide a knife or two on his person. A gun would be too much, but the Tower wasn't as full of enemies that should require such a thing. The boots were modeled after Loki's Asgardian ones, and there were built in sheaths to hold stilettos with blades no more than three inches long.

"I trust that meets with your approval," Loki said after a moment, stepping back and away from Natasha. He looked at James with a bland expression, though his posture was all tension.

Nodding, James took a step forward. "Yeah, thanks. Moves real well with me." He hiked up the tunic to show the dagger strapped to his torso. "Hides a blade well enough."

"That was the idea," Loki replied, watching as James dropped the shirt.

When he turned on his heel to leave, Natasha gave him a concerned look. "There are probably things we need to talk about," she began quietly.

"No, I don't think there are," Loki returned, though he was ashen pale and there was a tremor in his lips. He left through the front door to her suite, the click of the lock closing sounding final and impossibly loud in the stillness.

Coming to her side, James simply pulled her into a tight embrace. "There is time for all things," he said quietly. "He loves you, he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't, New York might be held hostage."

James looked at the door, contemplating that, then shook his head. "He'll explode. But it won't be like that. He'll be angry, itching for a fight. Out of sorts. Lost." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Once he goes down far enough, then he'll listen if you want to talk."

Natasha nodded, and clutched him tightly. No other words were necessary.

***

Thor was spending time with Jane before he had to return to Asgard. He hadn't mentioned their need for Natasha as Ambassador, making her wonder what was going on. Most Ambassadors stayed on a semipermanent basis in the country they were meant to liaise with. Surely Odin and Frigga weren't _that_ unhappy with her? Or were they making allowances for her and letting Thor and Sif remain on Earth in the Ambassador capacity?

Her head hurt just thinking about it. Everyone seemed too damn opaque for her right now. She was burnt out, functioning but not at her usual level. Joking and playing video games might have helped in the short term, but she was left feeling hollow afterward. Bruce and Jane were pleasant enough company, though she wasn't sure if she connected with them very well. They seemed to like her well enough, had certainly tried to help however they could.

No, the issue was with _her._ She was the one that had been put back together all wrong after what she had gone through in the past few years.

Past few years? Ha. It was her entire lifetime.

Natasha didn't quite stop short when she saw Steve and Sif in the common room. They were sitting with their backs to do the door, heads bent close together. It looked like a photo album, and Sif noticed her out of the corner of her eye. "Lady Natasha," she said, her warm smile tempered somewhat by recent circumstances.

"Just Natasha here," she murmured.

"Is Bucky okay?" Steve asked, turning as well. It looked like the photo album that Phil Coulson had painstakingly put together, news clippings and sketches from the 40's detailing Steve's time as Captain America and leader of the Howling Commandos.

"He's in my suite. He's fine," she replied, and saw some tension bleed out of his shoulders. "He's not the same man you knew in the forties."

"And I'm not the same man I was back then either," Steve retorted.

"In some of the ways that count, you are." Natasha blew out a breath, tired. She was so fucking tired of the bullshit and posturing and having to be so strong for everyone else's benefit. She wanted to just _be_ for a little while, without having to think. But she couldn't retreat to Clint's rooms and play mindless video games all day, as fun as that sounded just then. "You're still going to stick your neck out for others. You'd still rather get beat up than see others get hurt. You still take on too much on your own."

Steve didn't even bother to deny that. He contemplated her for a moment. "What's the phrase?" he asked, a little too innocently. "The pot calling the kettle black?"

Natasha pursed her lips and considered leaving, but he was right. She found herself walking into the room, almost against her will, and plopped down on the couch beside Sif. To her surprise, the warrior put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"There is no shame in needing additional warriors by your side. Why do you think the Warriors Three tend to fight together?"

"I'm a spy, not a warrior," Natasha replied with a sigh, sinking into Sif's embrace.

"You fought with the rest of us at the Battle of New York. You fought with everyone on Asgard," Steve pointed out. "You can be a warrior, too. Same skills, different scope."

"Warriors know that there must be recovery time," Sif said quietly. "Steve has told me that you have not had any."

"A week here or there."

"Which is appropriate only in a battlefield," Sif declared. "Did you not wonder why there is much drinking and carousing amongst our people?"

"Because you like it?" Natasha offered, being deliberately obtuse.

"Yes," Sif admitted, swatting her arm gently. "But why else do we fight? If we do not remember the point, we are no better than berserkers."

"I was trying to balance the scales, to make up for all the harm I'd done in the past."

"Are you not done?" Sif asked, surprised. "Millions of lives on your world, in our realm, the countless innocents that were not slaughtered for another's pride... Is it not balanced?"

"If they were, I've upset the scales again," Natasha murmured.

"When will you be done? When it is over?" Steve asked quietly.

_Never._

"I don't know," Natasha said instead.

Steve closed the photo album and carefully put it down on the coffee table. "I know how sometimes the best we can do isn't good enough. That we're not what we want to be. That having potential isn't the same as being able to do something." He turned and faced her, then took up one of her hands to give it a squeeze. "But we try, Nat. We keep trying. That's all we can really do, isn't it?"

"Is this a pep talk for me? Or for you?"

"Both of us, maybe?" he admitted. "Because I want to be there for Bucky, but I don't know how. And I probably lost your trust with this, but I didn't intend to hurt you. I didn't know that you didn't know. I just wanted to make sure he didn't kill all of us in the tower. SHIELD can't help him, you know that. _That_ was a deliberate omission."

"Not following SHIELD protocols?" Natasha asked, eyebrow lofted, not wanting to touch how much the omission had hurt her.

"They don't always seem on the up and up. Maybe the goals are good, but how they get there... I don't see Peg liking how her agency turned out."

He sounded just as lost and sad as Natasha felt. She found herself squeezing his hand back before she really thought about it. Wasn't that a sad state of affairs for a spy? And if she wasn't a spy any longer, what was she? What was a consultant that didn't take on any jobs for the agency that wanted to hire her on?

"We're gonna make mistakes. We're only human. _Asgardian,"_ Steve added playfully, grinning at Sif. Natasha wondered if he had taken her to bed yet. She couldn't imagine him doing it with his worry over James, but she could tell that interest was there on both sides.

"His memory," Natasha began slowly, wriggling out of their grasps. _"Our_ memory... It's been all fragmented. Erased. Changed. Various agencies went in, played with them, took things out, put other things in. I've had more time outside of that, but the drugs and concussions I had when Yelena took me..." She took a breath when she realized her voice warbled and she was dangerously close to crying. "He was on ice. Frozen between missions at different locations. It's why I thought I killed him. He wasn't at the one I burned down. But he's been wiped so many different times, I don't know if he will remember his connection to you, Steve. I don't know if you're hoping for something that can't happen."

"I still have hope," Steve replied stubbornly. "I have to. It's all I got left."

"Don't push him too hard."

"Is he going to come after the rest of us?"

"Not if you don't lock him up."

Sighing, Steve bit his lip and looked away uncertainly, considering. "I don't like it," he admitted. "He's as strong as an Asgardian. What's to stop him from changing his mind?"

"Me."

Natasha was aware that she had told them the same thing about Loki. And hadn't he obeyed the rules she had set down for his stay in the tower? He hadn't pushed the others too hard.

Elbows on her knees, she tiredly rubbed at her face. "If we make house rules for him..."

"You would discipline him, too, then?" Steve asked.

There was only curiosity in his tone, no lascivious teasing as there would be if she was having this conversation with Tony. Thank god, because she felt too rattled and fragile for that. She wasn't feeling very domme at the moment, truth be told, but Steve needed the reassurance. So she nodded, feeling like a liar.

"Hey," Steve murmured, getting her attention. "I'll help however I can, you know that. Not just for Bucky's sake, but for yours. Any of us will, you know. Just ask."

That was the hard part, wasn't it?

***

Loki found her that evening sitting on the floor next to a floor to ceiling plate glass window overlooking Midtown, a large mug of tea in her hands. Natasha was looking out over the city, watching the lights flicker to life as the sun went down. James was in her suite making use of her tablet to try to catch up on things other than weaponry. She had tried to help him earlier, but he had gotten frustrated with her hovering. When she had pointed things out to Steve years ago on the helicarrier and in SHIELD offices, he had simply laughed and gamely tried to look up whatever she suggested, and grinned at her lame puns. She could tell herself it was James' frustration with being penned in, with not having a mission, with knowing that there were many deaths on his head that he couldn't atone for.

She could tell herself that, and she was afraid that it wasn't all it was. He loved her, she knew that and didn't doubt it. But love was very different when you didn't have to be afraid of it. They could love each other, but that didn't mean they could actually live with each other.

If she had the energy to figure this out, she could probably fix it. But she didn't. And so she was taking the coward's way out by hiding. It was kind of a relief to not have to fix everything, to be honest, but this couldn't last for long, not with so many broken souls around her. Though she had been fixing everyone else's broken souls for so long, what did she have left to patch herself up with? How could she fix herself?

He was silent for a long time, then moved to sit gracefully beside her. "You're hiding."

So astute. Dammit.

"Yes," she said when he seemed to expect an answer.

Quiet for a long moment, Loki finally took her mug and stood up gracefully. He extended a hand, clearly expecting her to take it. Frowning, she did, allowing him to lift her to her feet. "What are you doing?" she asked him.

He gave her a shark's grin as he put the mug down on a counter as they passed through the kitchen area on the way to the living areas. Not answering, Natasha was irritated and curious at the same time. What in the world was on his mind?

They bypassed her suite for his, the front room still very empty. "You were right, long ago, when you told me I was not ready for leadership. I could not be a good King if I could not even care for a single person," he began slowly. His lips drew back in a smile that reminded her too much of Yelena in her madness, right before she hit Natasha.

When Natasha flinched, Loki clucked and cradled her face in his hands gently. "You're hiding because everyone relies on you. And you don't feel strong enough for that. You can't shore us up when you're empty, and I am not as good as you are in taking care of things. But I can lean how to, and I do know what you need right now."

"What's that?" she asked, her voice coming out with a slight rasp.

"To not think."

Oh, yes, that sounded quite excellent, actually.

"If it's too much," he said quietly, "you use the safe word. But this isn't our deal. This is still separate. This is still something else. Like when we were in Astoria." He paused, and she took in his concern with surprise. He had changed while she was gone. It suited him.

"Do you agree?" he pressed. The tension in his shoulders relaxed when she nodded. "Good. Then we begin now."

He conjured one of his knives and slit her clothes from her body. When she was about to ask what the hell he was doing, he shook his head sharply. No words, then. She had to respond to his gestures and commands, trusting he would take care of her. The knife was too much like the one he had used to cut into her, once upon a time. Her abdomen tightened in response, especially as he dragged the point of the blade over her body, tracing where her scars used to be, where the L scar had once been.

The ultimate trust exercise.

Memories threatened to flood her, and it was hard to stay in the moment. Loki nudged her feet apart with his, and she tried to respond. Her body was too tight, too tense, and she flinched away from the touch of the blade on some areas of her body.

"You're thinking too much," Loki said, voice stern. No anger, almost as if he expected it. He leaned in close, lips next to her ear. "This needs to stop. I see you need discipline."

Some part of her rebelled against that. She was nothing if not disciplined, and it was such a part of her that it was insulting. Opening her mouth to reply, Natasha was startled when he laughed at the spark of anger in her eyes.

"Yes, discipline is necessary. I see that. You don't feel enough." He waved his hand and created a padded sawhorse, the likes of which belonged more in a BDSM dungeon. "Lie down."

That rebellious part of her wanted to balk, to call her safe word and end the scene. But that would be cheating, would be giving up and playing the coward even more. "Loki, I—" It clicked for a moment why she rebelled too hard. "It's like the Red Room."

His hand caressed her spine gently. "Can you push past it? Can we make new memories to temper the ones you have?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "I'm not sure how much I can even trust my memories."

"Then I propose a separate safe word. Andorra stops everything. I suggest cavern to slow it down, see what we need to change in order to make it tolerable." Loki kept one hand caressing her spine, and the other circled her throat. Her breath stuttered in her chest at the contact, and he licked her ear. "Natasha?"

"Yes. I can remember that."

"Good. Now arrange yourself for me. You still need disciplining."

She pressed her lips together unhappily, then laid her stomach down on the padding of the sawhorse. Her breath hitched when she was lashed to it with magic, unable to move. Loki brought his hand to her spine again, stroking gently. "Loki," she began, voice hoarse.

"You can slow this down if you must," he replied, voice firm somewhere above her. "But you're thinking too much. When you're with me, you're _with me._ I can't have you thinking of other things." His nails scored lines down her back, and he cupped her ass before giving it a squeeze. "You said love is for children, yes? You've called me a child."

"Not in that context—"

 _"Hush,"_ he commanded. "What are your safe words?" He waited until she repeated them, and she tried to turn her head. "Additional spanks for that," he commented, sounding almost bored. "Count them out."

Her ass was warm by the third slap, stung by seven, burned by eleven and felt almost impossible to endure when he stopped at fifteen. She didn't know when she started crying, when she had started to only focus of the feel of his hand coming down hard over her body, when the worries about James and grief over Yelena seemed to ease from her. She could barely hear Loki's praise for taking it so well, but she felt his fingers stroking her, then sliding between her legs, then pumping into her. Natasha cried out and jerked her hips, not expecting that, but he brought her to orgasm quickly. She was still sniffling a little when he thrust into her with his cock, filling her completely. His clothes were still on, and the burn in her ass meant that even the fine weave of the Asgardian fabric inflamed her skin. It was counterpoint to the pleasure building inside of her, it was different enough yet familiar enough that she came _hard,_ nearly shrieking.

Natasha was glad to be bound afterward, when Loki stroked her neck and conjured some kind of soothing cream to work into her skin. "We're done," he said unnecessarily. Her entire body was loose, relying on the sawhorse to maintain her weight. It was a surprise when he kissed the nape of her neck, and murmured how good she had been for him.

Like when they had been in the Astoria apartment, that seemed to trigger the floodgates for her tightly bound emotions. She sobbed again, this time not from overstimulation but from simply letting go. She clung to him when he picked her up in his arms, and didn't care when he carried her down the hall to her own suite, when James looked at her anxiously.

"She's all right," Loki promised James, voice infinitely gentle. "She's been wound up too tight lately. She needed to release some of it."

James looked relieved, and sat at the edge of the bed when Loki laid her down carefully. "But naked? What does that have to do with anything?"

Natasha almost wanted to laugh, so her sobs turned into hiccups. "It's... different. It's hard to explain the whole thing."

"This when you're usually so good at them?"

Loki seemed immensely proud of himself at James' pronouncement, but Natasha couldn't bring herself to care about that. She still had a lassitude in her body; logically she knew it was endorphins, but another part of her was thrilled at the thought that she could be taken care of for once, even if it was for a short time. It was so difficult to be in control all the time, to take on the weight she had shouldered without complaint.

He brushed his fingers across her cheek, a gentle caress more for her benefit than to show off for James. It made her smile, and she reached out to grasp both Loki's and James' hands. "I'm okay. Really. Just... Floating. It feels almost like floating. I'll come down, I'm sure I will, and I'll worry then, but for now, I just feel so relieved. Like everything is gone for a little while."

Though he still looked concerned, James nodded. "Can't have anything happen to my best girl," he murmured, squeezing her hand gently.

"I'm good," she murmured, lips still curled in a subtle smile. "Really. For right now, I really am good, James."

"I'll let you stay with her," Loki said quietly to James. He bent down to kiss Natasha's temple gently, then disentangled their fingers. "I have much to do tonight."

"Loki?" Natasha murmured as James shifted to climb into bed behind her. Poised at the doorway, he turned back to look at her with an unreadable expression. "Thank you," she said softly.

His smile was gentle, a bit of strain at the edges. "I'm glad I could help you," he replied, then slipped through the door before she could say anything else.

From there, it was only too easy for Natasha to tumble down into sleep, James at her back and holding her tight.

The End


End file.
